


All the good girls go to hell

by Muze



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Edmure is a cool uncle, F/M, Getting Together, THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED, awkward roslin, drunken robb stark, halloween party
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:26:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26949700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Muze/pseuds/Muze
Summary: Roslin was a good girl, perhaps the only good girl between the dozens of children fathered by billionaire entrepreneur Walder Frey during his eight marriages. Good girls didn’t try to seduce PhD students who were the family of school friends. But then she was wearing devil ears tonight.
Relationships: Roslin Frey/Edmure Tully
Comments: 34
Kudos: 24





	All the good girls go to hell

**Author's Note:**

> I've returned with a new beloved pairing of mine. And another notoriously long one shot, buckle up.

‘Is that a Bloody Mary?’ Robb asked, frowning hard to focus on the liquid in Roslin’s glass. He was wavering ever so slightly.

The fate of every beer drinker at a cocktail party. They’re always completely smashed before midnight since they down their cocktails at the same speed they do their beer, a fatal mistake. By the time they register the effect of the alcohol, it's already too late.

‘Ew no, I prefer my vegetables in a dish instead of a drink’, Roslin laughed.

‘Ros, tomatoes are fruit’, Meera commented. She had wisely stuck to her beer instead of falling for the allure of the brightly coloured drinks.

‘I know. Everyone knows. But really, who uses it as a fruit? Ever put tomato in a fruit salad?’ Roslin asked.

‘What’s in it then?’ Robb asked, focussed on uncovering the mystery of the cocktail.

‘Strawberries, rum, some red syrup for a bloody effect…’

‘Any good? Still don’t know what to have next, but that green Frankenstein one was gross’, he said conspiratorially, leaning in close to whisper in her ear.

As expected, he lost balance.

But Roslin, being a fourth year student experienced in both drunk men and drinking cocktails, was prepared and managed to steady Robb while keeping her glass so that not a drop was spilled.

‘The floor’s sticky’, Robb defended.

Admittedly, the floor was. The tiles of the night club had turned to glue thanks to the coat of spilled cocktails and beer covering it.

Once upon a time, as a naive freshman, she’d worn ballet flats while going out. Needless to say she’d lost one of her shoes many times that night.

‘I know’, she laughed.

‘You know what helps against sticky floors?’ she whispered in his ear.

‘Tell me’, he grinned goofily.

Meera rolled her eyes. Roslin pitied the girl. She was the only girl in the Northern boy gang, and their designated babysit on most days.

Stern solemn law student Robb Stark always turned into a smiler when he went out. It wasn’t the alcohol, he was always an entirely different person outside a school context. School called for dutiful Robb, evenings called for fun Robb, the two parts of him being as different as night and day.

‘Water.’

‘Water? How does that help?’ Robb asked.

‘For heaven’s sake. If anyone needs me I’m with Ygritte’, Meera sighed before stalking off.

‘Have fun!’ Roslin cried, but the girl had already disappeared.

‘Well, sober people keep their balance better’, she said with a smile.

‘Boo. Boring. Perhaps I should put you up with Jon next. Or Meera. She’s rarely in the mood to party.’

‘Oh no please, I’ve barely recovered from that date you set me up with last time.’

‘Should’ve known Theon couldn’t behave himself’, Robb nodded.

Theon was the kind of guy who wanted sex first, dinner second.

Roslin wasn’t that antiquated that she wanted to wait with sex until there was an established relationship. However, she did want to spend an evening with someone before going to their homes.

‘But Jon’s better. I promise’, Robb swore. ‘He even blushes when someone says the word sex. He’s a darling.’

‘Robb, we went to school with Jon. I know him.’

‘Yes, so? You never talked to him much so how would you know what he’s like?’

‘Only older guys Robb. I don’t date babies. And I don’t do girls either.’

‘He’s my age!’

‘Babies’, Roslin repeated, tapping his nose with her finger as if he were a child.

‘I don’t know why you even insist on trying to pair me off all the time.’

‘Because if I don’t, mother will continue to nag that I should date you. As will your dad’, Robb pointed out.  
Alright, so he wasn’t that drunk yet.

It was the heavy burden that fell on the shoulders of the Stark children. Stark Enterprise was the greatest winter sport business around. Walder Frey was always eager to absorb other big successful businesses in his billion dollar empire, while the Starks were eager to remain independent but sell their goods on Walder’s large internet platform. Conflicting interests, but both their parents were interested in the two families forming a connection. Both families hoped a relationship between two of the children would open the negotiation table.

Never mind that in a modern world two families needn’t marry each other to seal an alliance.

Never mind that Roslin was a fourth year at university and Robb a first year. Back in High School she’d been the best figure skater from the district, and Robb the rugged ice hockey player had been the only one around able to partner with her. Oh how everyone had swooned for their routines at competitions. University put an end to their skating careers, but not to their parents’ aspirations.

‘Rosss, come out for a smoke?’ her friend Arianne asked, slinging her arms around Roslin’s shoulders.

Robb nodded at Arianne, trying to school his face into a cool expression.

Roslin rolled her eyes.

Men, they all fell for Arianne. She couldn’t even blame them. Especially when she looked like world’s hottest witch. She made even decidedly straight Roslin doubt her sexuality.

‘Robb, remember, water’, Roslin warned.

Robb’s nose scrunched as she embarrassed him in front of Arianne, but the girls ran off giggling.

Roslin wasn’t a smoker. But she did enjoy taking a breather away from the heat and loud music inside.

‘Any of you girls happen to have a lighter?’ an attractive blond knight asked.

‘Sure hon’, Arianne smiled, handing it over.

‘Oh, a fancy one’, the knight grinned, flipping it over and watching the flame shoot out.

‘Only the best’, Arianne said smoothly.

Roslin hadn’t seen him before, but she did know the man standing beside him.

Edmure Tully.

Robb’s very young, very hot uncle.

How that she knew that? She’d seen pictures of him and Robb pass on Facebook for years. And Robb still regularly hung out with him, posting pics of fishing trips, bowling evenings and poker nights on Instagram.

She never thought she’d actually meet him, but on her first day at uni she had immediately spotted him in the hallway, helping some lost language students out.

Apparently Edmure was a disappointment to Robb’s granddad, who had really wished for his son to take over the family tradition of going to a certain uni and obtaining a business major there. Instead he’d decided a language major specialising in medieval literature would be a far better background for the next owner of Riverrun Castle.

According to Robb he had as much talent for numbers and figures as a trout on crack.

Roslin felt that. She had over twenty siblings, some of them studying practical things like accountancy or nursing, others excelling at business and law. None of them ever studied history. None of them had dyscalculia.

Walder Frey didn’t know who he’d give his business to yet, but one thing was certain, it wasn’t Roslin. Not that she wanted it.

‘Not a smoker?’ a deep voice asked beside her.

Roslin jumped.

A vampire with dark red hair had apparated beside her.

‘Not my style.’

‘Don’t devils usually like fire and smoke and all?’ he teased, leaning against the wall as he took a swig of a dark brown liquid.

Rum coke, a man of culture.

‘Oh, well that’s just the thing. I live between fire and smoke every day. There’s no allure to the mundane.’

He grinned.

‘I’m Edmure. That’s my friend Marq.’

‘Nice to meet you.’

‘The correct way to respond would be by giving me yours.’

‘Beelzebub, of course’, she said as she pointed at her horns, but she couldn’t keep the smile off of her face for a long time.

‘It’s Roslin.’

No recognition crossed his face.

Of course, it didn’t. She wasn’t in a lot of Robb’s photographs.

And naturally, Edmure with his good looks would not obsess over a girl who appeared once or twice on his cousin’s Instagram feed. He had a job to keep busy with, instead of obsessing over a girl in a photograph, and could probably get enough girls in real life.

Not that Roslin couldn’t get boys in real life, but she was picky.

‘Lovely to make your acquaintance, Roslin’, he grinned smoothly.

If she’d known him better she might have been able to say something witty or sweet in return, alas, she was shy by nature and didn’t know how to talk to strangers. Especially not strangers she wished to impress.

She hoped her smile made up for her silence.

‘So what brings you to a Halloween party on this fine day?’

It was not a fine day. It was windy, freezing, and on most moments: raining. But he could’ve told her anything and she would have smiled.

‘Arianne and I wanted to go out sometime this week and one of my friends invited us. So we came’, she explained, nodding at her friend.

‘To the party of the law student society. Happen to study law?’

‘Oh no!’ Roslin cried, her face scrunching up in distaste. The mere thought.

She didn’t even look like a law student, she never would have passed for one in the streets.

She was just about to say that when she realized that no one here looked like a law student.

The man laughed, throwing his head back in his neck.

‘I see. Law isn’t exactly my thing either. I was also persuaded to come here by a friend. So I took Marq , Gerris and Ronnet with me. We too wanted to party this week anyways’, he explained.

Was friend a synonym for Robb?

She hoped his law society godfather would be merciful during his hazing. Up until now he was responsible for the arrival of at least four guests she knew of, surely he was proving to be a very dutiful new member of the society.

‘Then what is it you like?’ Roslin innocently asked.

‘Literature. You?’

‘History?’

‘Ah, a fellow humanities lover, this is why we instantly got on’, he grinned with a devilish wink.

Was this truly the brother of the austere matron Catelyn Stark? They couldn’t be more different.

‘So what’s your favourite era?’

Roslin bit her lip to keep from sighing. Always the same questions.

‘If we’re talking art, I’d say the romantic era and the Golden Era for the Dutch masters. If we’re talking about architecture I’d say the late Gothic period in England and the gilded era. Clothes hands down the Victorian era and for literature the regency era. But if we’re talking historical periods as in events and developments, I’d have to go for the Early Modern Times and the First World War.’

That answer was too long. He was just asking it out of politeness and here she came like a socially inept weirdo with way too much detail.

She laughed with sharp self-awareness tickling at her throat, hoping that her laugh gave away she knew it was a silly answer.

‘Somehow I get the suspicion you’ve been asked this question before.’

‘Oh dear me, what gave me away?’ she asked with a smile.

His lip quirked in a funny way that told her he was trying to keep from smiling too widely.

‘So you are a romantic who loves pretty things and romance?’ he asked.

‘Ah damn, you got all of that from my response?’

Bless the man for not making it awkward!

‘I know a great many historians, by now I do know classicists are a wholly different type of people than early modernists.’

‘Very clever.’

‘Are you going to tell me you don’t have a similar answer prepared for literature?’ she asked.

‘I do’, he admitted.

‘I enjoy ancient philosophy, and that includes Chinese and Indian philosophers. Philosophy by Germans between the sixteenth to nineteenth century is pretentious and deliberately confusing. Poetry by Arabs is superior to all others. I admit to a soft spot for prose during the romantic era, and I don’t deny the massive influence of books from the interbellum period. Nor do I deny the value of the transformative period between the sixties and eighties with Foucault and the rising diversity and so on. But in my heart, and I know it’s very typical for a white academic, my favourite era for literature will remain the Late Middle Ages. Now what do you make of my answer?’

Perhaps it would count as cheating if she also relied on information she’d already gotten from Robb, but she did want to impress him so.

‘You are self-aware. And have a love for history. As a boy, you probably wanted to be a knight and you transformed your boyhood dreams into an academic study topic to validate your interests.’

_That sounded way too harsh, Roslin. He only made an innocent joke about you and your response sounds so depreciating. He’s not familiar with your sarcasm and deadpan humour yet._

‘I came here for a good time and honestly I am feeling so attacked right now’, he laughed, downing the last of his glass.

Her own glass wasn’t much fuller.

‘Could I interest you in a drink, my lady?’

‘Oh a gentleman’, she smiled.

‘Of course, I was raised to uphold the ancient rules of chivalry. These millennials don’t even know how to compose a proper letter anymore’, he exclaimed dramatically.

‘A true twenty first century tragedy’, Roslin nodded.

‘You are aware that you are actually a millennial though?’ she asked, regretting it immediately afterwards. What did it matter, he’d just been making a joke. Why did she always feel the need to show her knowledge?

Probably the inferiority complex that came from being the last child of the sixth wife. All Frey children who didn’t waste their privilege with drinking and screwing were desperate to show that they were remarkable in their own way instead of just their birth number.

‘I beg your pardon?’ the vampire asked insulted.

‘The kids here are Gen Z. Millennial was a term used to talk about “the young generation”, and now it’s still being used to talk about the youth but the youngest millennials are in their twenties and most are in their mid-thirties.’

‘Gods. The time’, the vampire shivered.

‘Yes, it’s quite hard to keep up at your age’, Roslin agreed.

‘And you are?’ he asked.

Roslin blushed. He wanted to know so he wouldn’t try anything with a girl who was a lot younger than him, she realized. Good move.

‘Well, as a historian I should say I’m against strict demarcations A person born on December thirty-first and on January first don’t differ. They grow up with the same television shows, witness the same historical events at the same age and were probably raised by parents of the similar age. Me? I’m still a millennial. I was raised on the same shows and books as my older brothers. And I always hung out with them. The oldest one is in his thirties, and some of my half-brothers are in their fifties. I feel closer to them than to my younger brothers and sisters by my father’s next wife. I feel an iron curtain level divide between me and people two years younger. They didn’t grow up on the same pop culture. I had to ask politely whether I could go on the internet and got a cell phone age twelve. So I don’t really vibe with the young kids here.’

Again another too elaborate answer, divulging much more personal information than was required.

_Oh, I’ll never learn. No wonder they always prefer Arianne and Sylva above me. They always ace looking pretty, being cool and talking about interesting things._

‘She says using the word vibe unironically’, Edmure smirked. ‘But I get it. Can’t say I feel very connected with my sisters, there’s a large gap between us. But I really don’t feel a deep kinship with kids from the late nineties either. I mean, nine eleven really was a day I remember.’

She felt his eyes on her. Was he expecting her to share her nine eleven experience?

‘You can’t have been more than a child back then’, Roslin just answered.

‘I turned nine that year, nine year olds are aware of the news.’

‘I’m afraid that my memories of that year are lost in the sand of time. I was too young.’

‘Okay okay, just… Checking… Who’s the first president you remember?’ he asked.

‘Bush? But really, that’s unfair. What if my father didn’t give a crap about politics instead of shouting about the way US presidents influenced his business? According to him Raegan was the last good one’, Roslin smiled.

‘Damn, but just how old is your father? It just now hit me… Did you say you had half-brothers in their fifties?’

He had been listening to her? Actually listening and wanting to understand her. Well wasn’t tonight full of miracles.

‘Oh, my mother is a normal age for a mother I suppose. But my father went through a lot of wives, some died, most he divorced. He’s ninety’, Roslin laughed.

‘He’s what? What!’

A normal reaction, she conceded.

However, Roslin had developed an entirely unnatural reaction to the standard surprise that was also entirely out of character. However, it helped to get the topic off the table.

She crossed her arms across her chest, forming peace signals with her fingers like world’s least cool rapper.

‘One day he’ll win the world record for oldest dad, I’m sure of it. But let’s not talk about him. I believe you were about to offer me a drink?’

‘Ah yes, I apologize. Let’s not talk about parents. The old gods and the new know I don’t want to spend my evenings out thinking about mine.’

‘Hey, I understood that reference!’ Roslin giggled, standing up when he reached out his hand.

She met Arianne’s questioning gaze and gave her a nod. Everything was fine.

More than fine, great even.

In the meantime Sylva had slipped outside as well, and was keeping Arianne company while they talked to the blond knight and a freckled ginger templar. They were also safe and entertained.

She’d been outside for so long the sweltering heat of the dancing actually made her shiver. Edmure was making swift work of his synthetic purple Victorian coat, hanging it up beneath six other coats so it wouldn’t be the first one people would steal.

Also a man who was experienced in partying, it appeared. She’d expected it. Robb made casual references to how his uncle was a womanizer and party animal, often stumbling into Sunday lunches with tiny eyes.

Why Roslin had, at some point decided, a handsome womanizer was the way to go, she didn’t know. He had the same allure as the apple from paradise, and she was just the next stupid eve who ignored common sense for the thrill of the forbidden fruit.

They froze when they both spotted Robb, dancing on a platform with Jon Snow, Theon Greyjoy and the tall Jon Umber. They were trying to look cool, dancing close to a group of girl amongst which were Jeyne Poole and Jeyne Westerling, a pretty girl who studied economy and had taken Historical Economy together with Roslin.

‘Oh dear’, Roslin muttered.

‘Yeah, that’s just painful to watch.’

‘And they’re so obvious about it. Girls never like it when you’re just leering at them from a distance’, she sighed.

Edmure turned towards her, his fake canine teeth and the fake blood at the edge of his mouth gave him a predatorial look as he smiled.

‘While I agree it’s a bad technique, what is your preferred method of seduction, Miss Roslin?’ Edmure asked.

‘Well, you need to give the girl the idea that it all happens quite naturally. So you start innocently, bumping into her or saying something casual when you happen to be waiting for drinks together at the bar. Then follows some casual banter and conversation, probably about the place or the people. And then if the two people decide they like the other’s company drinks are proposed. It’s an investment after all. And as you drink you talk some more, or start dancing together’, Roslin smiled.

They were almost at the end of the routine she’d just described.

Edmure grinned.

‘Well in that case, have we established a connection strong enough to have those drinks?’

‘We have. Now it’s up to you to decide whether I’m the type of girl to have a shot with, or a full glass of something’, Roslin smiled.

‘Agh, right. Somehow, by the gleam I detect in your eyes, you are not opposed to shots.’

‘I am not.’

‘May I ask why?’

‘Well, actually I would like a larger drink. But usually I’m the first person to cry shots. But shots are for friends. Or men I want to get rid of quickly but won’t allow me to say no to a drink’, Roslin confessed.

‘Ah, so you’re the heavyweight drinker then.’

‘What? Why would you think that?’ she asked as they pushed their way through the mass of people towards the bar.

‘Because the people who suffer from shots are never the people who propose them. Unless they’re idiots. But you don’t strike me as one.’

‘Awh, that’s kind’, Roslin laughed.

‘So, you want a….?’ he questioned as he dug for his wallet.

Roslin looked at the Halloween inspired cocktails. It was a student bar, so the cocktails were as expensive as a glass of wine.

‘A fright night in the grove’, she answered with a little smile.

His eyebrows rose comically.

‘Alright’, he agreed as the bartender came over.

‘Two fright nights’, he decided.

‘Can’t go for a lower percentage than you’, he grinned.

‘Oh no. Whatever you do, you must guard against that. The humiliation. You have your reputation to consider’, she laughed quoting the recent Sanditon series he had probably never heard of.

Really Roslin. Too niche.

‘So are you a shot proposer, or are you a sufferer?’ she asked to keep the conversation from lulling.

His grin was all the answer she needed.

‘What’s your poison of choice?’ she asked.

‘Ah, whatever’s cheapest mostly. But if I have to choose I’d say blue thrill, Jägermeister, lime vodka or something else that kind of erases the beer smell for a little while.’

‘Ah, nice tactic. I never saw a shot as a way to make my mouth smell better’, Roslin laughed.

What a rogue. She was reaching way too high.

‘’Yeah well’, he laughed, awkwardly raking his hand through his hair. He’d realized just what that told her about him.

‘I umm. My bachelor years were wild.’

Was he taken?

She didn’t want to ask. It was preposterous. And would show far too much interest than she was comfortable showing.

‘My bachelor years as in the time I spent achieving my bachelor degree. Still single. Though it won’t be because my mouth stinks, or so I hope’, he laughed self-aware. He even made awkwardness look attractive.

‘Must be your personality then’, her mouth quipped before her brain processed it.

Too late she slammed her hands in front of her mouth. It was already out. She didn’t even _mean_ it, she genuinely liked him.

But her mouth always said the first thing it could, without ever asking her brain whether it should.

He huffed a laugh.

‘My, don’t hold in on my account’, he laughed as he took the cups the bartender put in front of them.

‘Oh I’m so sorry. I don’t even dislike your personality’, she stuttered.

_Wow Roslin, really digging the hole deeper. Keep going at that pace and you can bury yourself in five minutes._

‘I mean. I like your personality, I do! Oh. Maybe this _is_ a bad idea’, she muttered as she took the drink.

‘Well, you weren’t wrong. I’ve had it from a good source girls like players to play with, but not to stay with. I’ve changed a bit the past two years. It stops being cool having many girls but no one to wake up with once you turn twenty-five.’

He wasn’t seeking conquests anymore?

And he had just brushed over her blundering?

Roslin was sure the real Roslin lay passed-out drunk in a ditch somewhere, having a fever dream in which Edmure Tully satisfied all her red-haired god dreams.

‘Really? Who said that? One of them?’ Roslin asked as she spotted the blond knight, the ginger man and three other men dancing by and with Arianne and Sylva.

‘Oh heavens no. Ronald isn’t looking for anyone, Marq is but he isn’t in a hurry. Patrek has a girlfriend, but it wasn’t him either’, he laughed.

‘Then who?’ she asked as they arrived at their friend group.

Edmure stood closer to her now, his face bent down to speak to her over the loud pounding music.

‘My brother-in-law.’

‘What? No! Really?’ she asked.

She noticed just how close they were when she looked up. Oh dear.

It did sound like something Ned Stark would say. But the thought of the fatherly Ned Stark giving dating advice to Edmure was incredibly hilarious.

‘My sister used to date his older brother once. But he was a big macho man and a partyer. In the end she swapped brothers when one night she caught Brandon drunk off his ass kissing someone else. Ned comforted her and well, the rest is history. That’s the first time she paid attention to quiet sober Ned. Now I won’t take any tips on how to pick up women from him. My sister fell into his hands by pure luck, or bad luck if you look at it from my sister’s point of view… Or luck perhaps still, that she found his arms to cry in since she is happily married… Uhm… Yeah whatever, you get what I mean. But it did stick. Girls always tell a player. Or so I’ve been informed’, he explained as he tripped over his words.

Neither of them were drunk, but they weren’t as eloquent as they would have been.

 _Once this glass is empty, I’m going to fill it up with water in the bathroom_ , Roslin decided.

Roslin nodded.

This time it was her turn to save him. She reached out her glass and tapped it against his.

‘So uhm. What are your shots of preference?’ Edmure asked to get away from the topic of his womanizing.

‘Ros? She’s the queen. If she’s in a good mood it’s a berry jenever, if she’s in a fun one it’s tequila, but watch it if she suggests a shot and you don’t know her well. Then she is one hundred percent sadistic’, Sylva declared.

‘Oh, what does she do?’ Edmure asked the busty girl in a cat costume. His eyes slid back to Roslin, glimmering with mirth.

‘When a guy chats her up she always goes for Stroh rum. Men drink beer so oftentimes they don’t know it. And they think they know her since she looks like a willowy daisy of girl. They don’t fear her. So they get their shot, throw it back, and find her face smiling at them as their expression scrunches up because of the awful taste. And then the after-burn sets in and they’re coughing and wheezing and looking at her in disbelief. Look at that smile! See that smile, that, my friend, is the smile of the devil’, Sylva cried out above the music, pointing at Roslin as she laughed in delight.

It sounded even worse when others told the story. She did love to see people’s expressions when they took particularly strong shots.

‘Stroh ey? Had that a couple of times. But after the first I only ever had it in a coffee anymore’, Edmure grinned.

‘You, my lady, are the devil indeed.’

‘I’m only the devil in disguise’, Roslin smiled sweetly, tracing her hand over the pointy ears of her diadem.

‘Cash fan?’ he asked in surprise.

‘Course.’

‘Country fan in general?’ he asked as Cotton Eye Joe started.

‘Well I’ll never say no to a good dance. But not generally, I’m more of a rock fan.’

‘What rock?’

‘Glamrock’, Roslin answered with a grin before she skipped away to the beat, hooking her arm in Arianne’s and starting to spin.

As the second verse began she landed back in front of Edmure.

They shuffled around each other, hands on their hips, before he hooked his arms in her and spun round.

And round.

And round.

Roslin couldn’t contain her laugh.

‘A girl with taste.’

‘You share it?’ she asked once she’d caught her breath and was simply bopping her head between taking sips of her drink.

‘I do. Although I’m more of a nineties rock fan, and metal. If we’re talking really appreciating the music. But 2000’s rock will always be the best fun.’

‘Like Smashmouth, Blink and uhm, Fall Out Boy?’

‘I really can’t give names. It’s like choosing your favourite child’, he laughed.

‘Fair enough, I also can’t name favourite songs or bands to save my life’, Roslin agreed.

The song seamlessly turned to In Zaire.

Roslin already cringed before the inebriated students started shouting in delight.

Then the pushing started, all students swarming to the sides of the club ready to start the line dance everyone seemed to know but no one had ever been truly taught.

It was growing hotter and hotter as they danced.

 _I hate going out in autumn. It’s always freezing outside but you have to wear summer clothes to not die inside,_ she complained in her head. But what was there to take off? She was already down to her leather pants and black cropped t-shirt. The tiny red satin cape around her shoulders wasn’t exactly making her hot.

The song grew slower, sounding in the new song.

Roslin let out a breath of relief, taking another sip of her cocktail. She’d survived the dance without too much flying out because of her dance moves. However, she had bumped into two people so a part of her drink now attributed to the slippery and sticky state of the floor.

Edmure was struggling in his vampire costume, as was his friend Marq. They were standing together near the side now, laughing together as Edmure freed Marq from his armour.

Edmure’s satin doublet was next to go, alongside his cravat which he dapped his forehead with before tying it around his wrist.

That man looked great in any amount of clothes, including none, Roslin suspected as she let her eyes rove across his chest.

‘So, you and what’s his name?’ Arianne asked.

‘Edmure.’

‘Edmure? Wait… is that? Isn’t that the Robb-family-thing-person you sometimes –‘

‘Shh. Yes, him’, Roslin hushed, throwing her hand up in warning.

‘He doesn’t know me. I’m not going to let him know I knew of his existence before. That’s creepy.’

‘Did you finally have the balls to ask Robb to introduce the two of you?’

‘What? No! Why? I couldn’t ask him to introduce me to his uncle, that’s _weird_.’

‘True’, Arianne admitted.

‘Anyways, luck’s on your side tonight girl. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do’, she laughed, patting her on the shoulder as Edmure looked over to them.

She might. She just might.

But she had to be subtle about it. He was only a recently changed womanizer. She couldn’t be an easy prey.

‘Rasputin!’ Roslin cried, turning towards Arianne.

Arianne rolled her eyes.

‘You people, never going straight for your target’, she sighed.

‘But he also was the kind of teacher women would desire’, Roslin merely sang, not deeming Arianne’s remark worthy of an answer.

Arianne laughed, throwing her head back.

Roslin laughed, pretending to beat on the drums before turning around while clapping in her hands. Sylva was in the mood to dance, and happily joined in.

The drumming changed pattern, the two songs overlapping before Footloose increased in volume.

Roslin did not go out that much, but this was a place she loved to go to, and by now she could tell by the music what hour it was. It was between one and two, when the club was at its most populated, so they blared out bop after bop, afraid the customers would otherwise go to other spots. The hour was filled with the easiest songs to dance to, all classics.

She regularly threw her eyes towards Edmure, always throwing him a smile when he was looking at her before continuing her dancing.

Barbie girl, some Grease songs and ABBA passed before a drunk man fell against her and she stumbled right into Edmure’s arms.

‘Thank you, my gallant knight’, she laughed as he helped her stand upright.

‘My pleasure, my lady’, he laughed.

Perhaps it’s safe to dance with him now, she reasoned.

So she stayed, dancing in front of him and jumping around as she bellied the lyrics they both seemed to know by heart.

Ah, how good it felt to scream: “I want you in my room, to spend the night together for now until forever” while bouncing around in each other’s arms.

A perfectly innocent way to say things she didn’t dare to say herself.

But somewhere she believed the message must have been clear in her eyes, for the expression in his suddenly gave her the flutters, and the distance between them decreased afterwards.

Time slipped away as each song seemed determined to bring them closer together. From dancing in front of each other, but making vulgar gestures to the Bloodhound Gang, to tracing their hands across each other’s body during Sex Bomb.

And then the songs came she’d been both dreading and looking towards. The songs to which she knew no other dance moves but the most primitive ones. Grinding, dropping it low, and throwing her arms around him.

And so when Flo Rida said shawty got low, Roslin went low, low, low down Edmure’s chest trailing her one unoccupied hand across his chest as she slid further down before jumping back up.

She turned around, her face facing him again. Only the faint hint of a smile remained now as his arms slid over her shoulders, his cup long since discarded.

His hands slid down her shoulders, coming to rest on her lower back.

He pushed her flush against him.

All breath exited Roslin’s chest.

He was hard as hell.

She bit her lip and pretended not to notice, focusing on dancing instead.

She tested Edmure’s hold on her by hanging backwards ever so slightly, still moving her arms and hips as if she was entirely unbothered by his interest.

_Is one of the hottest men I’ve ever seen really hot for me?_

_Better act on it before he changes his mind._

She slung an arm around his neck with a smile.

Edmure smiled and drew her in even closer.

He was really tall, she was just looking at his chest now that she was this close.

Not that it wasn’t a nice chest. It was definitely a nice chest. He wore a good perfume and deodorant, his chest was wide, and apparently decorated with neither too much or too little hair, from what she could glimpse from his opened buttons.

She looked up, finding his eyes already on her.

Heat flowed to her face.

Oh.

Oh it was that time.

That familiar spark was there.

Her heart was in her chest, her stomach and way down at the same time, beating feverishly.

She could feel the pull in her chest.

Her mind stopped thinking.

He was about to kiss her!

Not even her nerves managed would manage to crack her lips open now. So there would be nothing to ruin the moment.

There were more romantic first kisses than in a nightclub, as Cry Me a River played, only hours after they first met. But it was what it was, and she would never complain.

The neon lights highlighted the red in his beard as he bent down towards her.

His eyes were so blue, even in the dark room.

She hadn’t felt this excited since she graduated high school knowing she never had to take another maths class again. And that was nowhere near a similar experience to this.

His hair was in disarray, his hair sticking in a dozen directions.

Roslin raises a tentative hand towards his hair, raking her fingers through it slowly. It felt so thick.

Her eyes skip over the heat of his gaze towards his lips.

She was going to kiss those lips.

Her stomach fluttered and she looked back up again. His eyes dropped close.

The drumming heartbeat slowed, transforming into a painful ache that could only be quelled by giving in to his lips.

Without conscious thought her feet lift until she stands on the balls of her feet, face no inches removed from Edmure’s now.

She crosses the final few inches, pressing her lips against his warm ones.

_His mouth definitely doesn’t stink_ , she notes as his arms tighten around her until there isn’t a hair’s breath between them anymore.

She had been so wrong when she thought she was hot before, she was simply melting now.

Her fingers curled into his hair.

She felt… Everything. Desire, relief, satisfaction, euphoria, there was too much feeling within her tiny body and she could only let it flow through her mouth and limbs.

His one hand keeps her pressed against him while his other hand cups her cheek.

She hadn’t kissed anyone in many months, she’d almost forgotten what it felt like.

They broke apart when someone bumped into them again.

The spell was broken but as they looked at each other from a foot apart, Roslin knew they were going to do it again.

Her heart was still pounding in her ears, and _no_ , it wasn’t just the bass of the music.

All the places he had touched her throbbed like a bruise, begging to be touched again.

They gravitated towards each other again. Now they had to get past the awkwardness again. Because just going straight for each other would be weird. Arianne was right, it was silly, but there was an unwritten rule about wanting to make a moment natural and coincidental.

‘It’s hot’, Roslin said innocently as she looked around the room.

‘Very’, Edmure admitted.

‘Outside for a while?’ he suggested.

Roslin looked around, raising herself to the tips of her toes to glance through the glass wall in the front of the club. She thought she spotted Arianne’s face just outside.

‘Sure’, she agreed. ‘But I’m going to fill my cup with some water first, if you don’t mind?’ she asked.

‘Oh no’, he said as they went towards the direction of the toilets.

Near the toilets, Robb was dancing on the platform he’d been on before.

‘I taught him that move’, Edmure grinned as Roslin halted, ignoring the way his nephew’s looked completely shit-faced. He was going through the motions of the dance with the grace of a white walker.

No seconds after, Robb, trying to do a move of the Gangnam Style dance, misplaced his foot, setting it not on the platform but on the air beside it. He fell face first, arms flailing and tackling the poor Jeyne Westerling who’d been dancing close to him.

Roslin and Edmure shot into action at the same time, sliding across the wet floor toward Robb, hands reaching to catch any part of the tumbling teens.

Roslin caught a shoulder of Jeyne against her chest, stumbling back with the girl but managing to keep them both from falling. Edmure had less luck, falling to his knees in his rescue attempt, but thanks to him Robb’s face didn’t split open like a melon on the floor.

Roslin was pretty sure her half-brothers would just laugh as she fell, let alone her uncles. Robb was really a lucky bitch with so many family members keeping an eye out for him. Robb once told her the old Tuly words were “Family, Duty, Honour”, even hundreds of years after the Middle Ages the Tully’s mostly lived by those words.

Despite that way back the Freys were sworn to the Tully family, there had never been a marriage between the two, probably because every Frey would’ve burned like a devil doused in holy water if they had to live by those words.

‘Oh Roslin, I’m so sorry’, Jeyne stammered.

‘It’s fine, really’, Roslin comforted the girl. ‘It wasn’t your fault.’

The girl nodded, her eyes flickering to Edmure and Robb.

The girl checked her phone.

‘I should be going home, nothing good ever happens after three’, she decided unhappily as she looked back at Robb. ‘Until I-don’t-know-when, Roslin. Have a nice evening’, the girl smiled shyly.

‘Safe trip home’, Roslin said before moving over to Edmure and Robb.

‘Roslin?’ Robb drawled, looking over his uncle’s shoulder.

‘You two know each other?’

Edmure asked as he looked over his shoulder as well, dropping a hand from his nephew’s shoulder.

Oh no. Now Robb would say they knew each other from school. It would make her sound a lot younger, putting her into “friend of family” territory instead of “date territory”.

‘Sure, got to know all the pretty girls. Wasn’t that what you said once?’ Robb chuckled.

Roslin couldn’t help but make a half-ironic religious sign.

Edmure’s confidence had slipped out of his shoulders.

‘Perhaps a long time ago I said something like that’, he admitted with a wince.

‘Ros, have you met my uncle Edmure yet?’ Robb asked obliviously.

His Northern accent was particularly heavy now that he’d drunk.

‘Robb, c’mon, that makes me sound so old’, Edmure begged, eyes flying to Roslin.

Roslin smiled at the mortification.

‘But you are old’, Robb’s eyes went from his uncle to Roslin. ‘He told me how he’d found his first grey hair in his beard tonight’, Robb laughed.

‘That’s enough I think!’ Edmure cried, his voice turning over.

‘Robb, did you drink the water I told you?’ Roslin asked, deciding to put an end to Edmure’s suffering.

‘I was about to’, Robb answered.

She rolled her eyes, and slid into the nurturing role she’d taken on a hundred times before, taking care of drunken brothers and friends. This was one situation she could navigate like a pro.

‘Now. Here, have my cup. Come’, she said as she pushed her empty cup in his hands, taking him by the wrist and drawing him forth between the groups of people who were determined to party until morning.

The toilets had shared sinks, the toilets only splitting up inside. She threw open the heavy dore and dragged Robb in, taking the cup from his hands and holding it under the tap.

‘I can’t believe you. I asked you to drink water hours ago’, Roslin reproved. 

‘Time just flew by Ros’, Robb protested as she handed him the cup.

‘You know, I don’t care for your excuses. Drink up.’

He drank the cup and handed it back to her. After which she filled it up again.

‘Hey, is your friend fine?’ a pretty blonde asked.

‘Uhm. Not really, but it’s manageable’, she smiled.

She handed Robb the filled cup.

‘Okay’, the girl said, looking at the boy with doubt.

‘Hey, you were dancing with Edmure Tully, weren’t you?’

‘Uhm… Yeah?’

‘Just watch it girl, that boy’s fun but they don’t call him the floppy trout for nothing’, she warned.

‘Oh… I’ll keep it in mind.’

‘Yeah, he’s worthless drunk’, the girl nodded.

Edmure slipped in.

‘What’s going o-‘

He froze when he spotted the blonde girl, who winked at him before slipping out with her friends.

‘Drink’, Roslin ordered Robb. Robb looked unhappy but started drinking.

‘Did those girls say anything?’

‘Just bathroom talk’, Roslin smiled sweetly.

‘Just how well do you two know each other?’ Edmure asked hesitantly, his eyes following the water level that was quickly lowering in the glass.

‘He did hockey in the same place where I went ice-skating’, Roslin answered carefully. It was the safest explanation.

‘Ah’, Edmure nodded awkwardly.

Roslin filled the glass another time.

‘Rosss, no c’mon. I already feel my stomach sloshing.’

‘That’s better than your head throbbing tomorrow. Or puking. Drink up.’

The third glass went down a lot slower than the previous two.

She filled the cup a final time.

‘You can take that one with you’, Roslin announced as she walked back to the door, holding it open for them.

‘You’re pretty cool’, Edmure whispered as he passed her.

Roslin’s mouth dropped open.

She immediately stored the compliment away to remember in the years to come. She’d heard many jokes about her mothering, but never had her responsible streak been called cool.

Roslin had never been cool.

She almost skipped out of the toilet.

Now she only needed to tell his friends to take better care of him and then she could go back to her epic night.

On the platform, all of Robb’s friends were gone save for Jon and a ginger girl.

‘Jon? Jon!’ the raven haired boy turned towards her, surprised to find her there.

‘Where is everyone?’

‘Home, or someone else’s home. Why?’

‘Robb’s wasted. Care to look after him a bit?’

His mouth pulled sour.

‘Yes, sure. But I wasn’t really planning on staying much longer, actually’, he admitted, his eyes fleeting back towards the short girl who was dressed like a wildling.

‘Ygritte has class at ten.’

_So Jon has a girl, guess Robb wouldn’t have been able to make good on that promise to set me up with Jon._

Alas, that’s when the night really went South.

She could ever so faintly hear a shout above the music, and turned around just in time to see Robb slipping on the wet floor as he climbed onto the platform.

His foot on the platform slipped away, his hands flailing round him.

He smacked against the platform with his head before he slid onto the floor dirty with spilled beer and dirt.

In an instant they were all around him.

‘Robb? Robb?’ Edmure asked, gently holding Robb’s face.

Robb’s eyes fluttered open and shut as he let out a pitiful whine.

‘Robb, are you alright?’ Jon asked.

‘Head’, Robb moaned.

‘That’s it. He has to be taken home’, Roslin decided.

‘He lives so far away’, Jon muttered, his eyes going back to Ygritte.

‘Ygritte, is it fine if I come to your room in an hour or so? I’ll use my key and slip in silently’, Jon asked.

‘It’s fine. I know where he lives’, Roslin decided.

Jon didn’t have to suffer for this.

‘You won’t be able to support him’, Edmure said.

‘Well frankly, I think he’ll need support on both sides’, Jon pointed out bluntly as Roslin and Edmure helped him up, both sliding an arm under Robb’s shoulders.

Their arms connected on his back.

It shouldn’t have made Roslin feel butterflies. It was hardly the time and place, yet it happened.

‘Then I’m coming with you’, Edmure decided.

‘He’s my nephew. His mother will forever be angry with me if I don’t take care of him’, he decided.

‘Alright. Out we go then’, Roslin decided.

Robb could walk, miraculously, but he wasn’t in much of a talking mood anymore.

Roslin caught sight of Arianne and waved a hand, signalling at Robb.

Arianne nodded and made a phone signal with her hand.

Text to keep me updated.

Roslin raised her thumb.

‘You need to say goodbye?’ Roslin asked as she halted in front of the door.

She followed his gaze at he searched the few groups remaining.

Marq was the only man remaining, dancing with Arianne and Sylva.

Edmure tried waving, but the man didn’t notice.

Arianne did though, and she gave Marq a push, pointing at their direction.

Marq raised his hand and Edmure nodded at Robb dazedly standing between him and Roslin.

To blond man laughed and went back to dancing.

‘All set’, Edmure grinned, throwing open the door.

The street filled with nightclubs and bars was car free at night, only police cars and ambulances were exempted, so they dragged Robb to the end of the street to one of the cabs already awaiting clientele.

‘Shit’, Roslin cursed as soon as Edmure had given the directions. ‘We need to search for his keys.

‘Fuck, yeah, you’re right.’

She was pretty sure it didn’t count as sexual harassment to search a knocked-out person for keys so they could safely store him in his room.

Luckily his keys were easily retrieved, hanging on a keychain together with his address and phone number, tied to one of the belt loops.

‘Yes!’ Roslin cheered.

‘Thank the gods’, Edmure sighed.

But with a chauffeur in front of them, no music, and a very drunk Robb Stark between them, the easy atmosphere of some hours ago was far gone.

‘Thank you for helping me bring him home’, Edmure quietly said after a while.

‘No problem. I could hardly leave him there, or let you struggle with him alone.’

‘That’s… Kind.’

‘I am kind’, Roslin laughed quietly.

‘His mother will really have to wash those clothes’, Roslin noted as she looked at his beige pants stained with all kinds of alcohol, dirt and grime.

‘She has a whole cabinet of stain removal bottles. She’s got some really wild ones at home, so I don’t doubt she has something in her cabinet to clean his clothes’, Edmure smirked. ‘I only hope he won’t get a bruise on his head. It’s one thing to get your clothes dirty and another to walk in like you walked straight into a floor.’

Roslin couldn’t help bit giggle. She tried to stifle it. It sounded too loud in the car. But the more she held it in, the worse the laugh tickled at her throat and pushed against her chest to get out. Light laughter burst out of her mouth.

‘It be like that sometimes’, she hiccupped in between bursts of laughter.

Edmure shook his head, unable to stop smiling.

‘What?’ she asked, her eyes growing soft as she focussed on his smile, her laughter running on its last leg.

‘You’re just such a delight to be around. I wish we would have had the time to do some more talking and dancing.’

Roslin did not gasp for breath.

But she did stop breathing.

Had she heard that right?

‘Perhaps we still can?’

‘I doubt it’, Edmure grimaced, sliding his phone out of his pocket, pressing on a side button.

‘It’s almost four.’

Roslin didn’t even hide her disappointment.

‘Another time, perhaps?’

‘I’d like that’, she smiled.

‘Perhaps some food and some wine?’

‘I’d definitely like that.’

‘Good.’

‘Good.’

Roslin bit her lip. They were nearing Robb’s street.

‘Do you listen to music while eating?’

‘Either that or the news. I only ever check the news in the evening, if I hear it at an earlier point in the day it always succeeds in ruining my mood.’

‘Do you?’

‘Either that or a series I’m watching. I want to relax during dinner’, she laughed.

‘You make food to glamrock?’ he teased. ‘Some headbanging above the spaghetti sauce?’

‘Tsk, actually I mostly listen to instrumental during my cooking adventures. I love some Jazz and film music composers while I’m cooking.’

‘You’ll have to stop talking or I’ll be seriously considering ask-‘ Edmure broke off his sentence when the driver stopped the car and named the price.

Roslin was too absorbed by his words to even think of offering to split the price of the cab.

What had he been about to say?

Ask what?

He just asked her out on a proper date, so did that insinuate he was willing to ask whether they could date-date? Or she become his girlfriend?

But she would never know. The cab driver had called him back to reality, and in the real world people weren’t as open about their feelings, or excited to rush into things. It was all fun and games in a night club, but the real world was scary. There, actions had consequences.

Edmure stepped out and Roslin too opened her car door, sliding out and tugging on Robb’s hand. He crawled out of the car, legs as stable as jelly. Edmure reached her just in time to take on part of the weight of the potato sack that was Robb.

‘Jeyne’, Robb moaned. ‘Where’s Jeyne? My queen’, he muttered.

Yes, Roslin remembered, the girl had worn a crown.

‘She’s gone home Robb. She’s nice and cosy in her bed. As will you’, she smiled.

‘Not my bed.’

‘No not yours, thank god, the girl stood a good chance of being covered in puke if she did. You’re a puker’, Edmure huffed as he carried Robb up the stairs. Roslin couldn’t help but follow behind, ready to catch them if Robb threw them off balance.

‘Am not’, Robb protested weakly.

She was glad he was starting to talk and protest again. That was a good sign.

‘Fuck, maybe I am’, he muttered. His shoulders flying up as his stomach turned.

‘What!’

‘No!’

‘Hold it. Hold it. You’re on the stairs. Bathroom. There’s a bathroom on your floor. Five stairs Robb, please.’

Edmure nearly dragged Robb up the stairs.

Roslin flew underneath Edmure’s arm as soon soon as they were upstairs, running to the bathroom and opening the door and toilet seat.

‘Hold it. Hold it!’ Edmure cried as he struggled in with the very white looking Northerner.

He wasn’t even down on his knees yet when the piled up bile flew out of his mouth.

Roslin diverted her eyes, shutting them tightly.

She took a breath through her mouth, and another one. Careful to not breathe through her nose.

She was good at taking care of people, but the scent of puke was always the one thing that managed to make her sick.

She was startled by the touch of Edmure’s hand on her.

‘You alright?’

‘Fine’, she smiled weakly.

She looked over her shoulder to where Robb sat, miserably leaning on the toilet.

‘Are we sure he doesn’t have a concussion? It’s dangerous to leave them then’, Roslin asked.

Edmure’s eyes widened comically before they flew to his miniature look-alike.

‘Fuck, can he? I mean… He did partially break his fall with his arms.’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Maybe we better look it up’, Edmure decided.

Roslin nodded, retrieving her phone.

  
Edmure came to stand beside her, leaning over her shoulder as she checked one page, and then another for good measure.

‘Ah fuck, half of those and more are symptoms of drunkenness as well’, he complained.

Roslin nodded. Of course he’d be confused, have memory problems, dizziness, nausea and slurred speech.

‘How do we test it?’ Edmure asked, looking at Roslin with wide pathetic eyes.

 _Youngest male child, always expecting the women to fix booboo’s_ , Roslin thought. But to his credit he did use the word “we”, meaning he was more than ready to assist.

She bit her lip as she looked at Robb.

‘We could shine a light in front of his eyes, check if he can follow it, and his pupils?’ she suggested.

‘Right’, he nodded, immediately shooting into action and sinking down beside his nephew.

‘Robb, you doing alright bud?’

‘Ugh, felt better’, he complained.

Edmure looked up at Roslin. It was a decent reaction.

‘It’s good that it’s going out now. You’ll start feeling a lot better now.’

‘I feel horrible.’

‘Good, then you are recovering.’

‘Don’t feel like it.’

‘If you start feeling bad, you’ll start regretting your actions and start thinking again. So you are no longer a danger to yourself.’

Roslin couldn’t help but laugh at the sound of utter disgust Robb let out in response.

‘Gotta puke again?’

‘Not immediately’, Robb groaned.

‘Good, look up.’

Edmure put on his flashlight and sat down in front of Robb.

‘Follow it with your eyes, please.’

Roslin watched the two men, both their clothes dirty from,falling, sitting on the floor like toddlers.

It really was too soon to say she wanted to be part of their family, so she didn’t say it but she sure thought it.

Edmure turned to her, raising his thumb. Pupils fine, reaction fine, reacting to questions alright.

‘Robb, does anything look blurry or double?’ Roslin asked softly.

He turned towards her, looking up at her with a frown.

‘No. Well. Nothing looks blurry or double, and I know everything’s fine. But I feel I am dizzy.’

‘So the room doesn’t spin, it’s you?’ Edmure asked.

Robb nodded.

‘He’s fine. The real awful drunks feel like the floor is tripping them up. If they know it’s them then they’re in a bad shape but not the worst. Had that plenty of times. Normally I’d stay up until the dizziness abated, drinking water and eating some junk, but I don’t think we’ll manage to convince him’, Edmure grinned.

It did have its advantages, having an experienced party animal at hand. Although she did question whether it was the most responsible reasoning according to doctors, she knew reality always differed from what was ideal.

‘No headache?’ Edmure asked.

‘No.’

‘Just wait until tomorrow’, Edmure grinned.

Robb looked like he was about to kill his uncle right there, before his cheeks blew up again and he twisted towards the loo with lightning speed.

‘Don’t tell mom’, Robb begged as he reached out his hand to flush the toilet.

‘Robb, we established that long ago. No telling Cat anything. You don’t rat me, I don’t rat you.’

Roslin’s uncles were all very very old, if they were still alive. She couldn’t imagine ever having such a relationship with them. These two were almost like brothers with a large age gap.

‘Robb, can you tell us what happened tonight?’

‘What part?’ he slurred as he tried to get on his legs. He managed, clutching the toilet with a vice-like grip as he pushed himself up.

‘Just the general outline and the last part’, Roslin answered.

He threw a tired look at her.

‘Got at the party, started decorating it with the other freshmen. Jon, Smalljon and Theon were there already. But not Meera, she had this wang-talk – language class, that’s it! – until ten thirty. Old Tongue, she needs it for her Erasmus semester next year’, he said.

He waggled past her, holding onto the towel closet and the shower as he processed through the bathroom.

‘Fuck I’m toast’, he complained.

‘Few guests, so I started some cocktail pong to while away time.’

‘Idiot’, Edmure grinned.

Robb threw a poisonous look over his shoulder before he staggered into the hallway.

‘Became a bit blurry. I don’t keep track of everything. Do you? Just knew like Jeyne arrived at one point. Couldn’t believe she actually came and then you, and you, with your friends. Went out to grab pizza at some point. I thing I went out for a smoke with Theon at some point… Yeah… I did go out for a smoke. Bloody hot inside.’

‘You went out for a smoke?’ Roslin asked carefully.

‘Yeah yeah, I know. Don’t judge. I was drunk, I always smoke when I’m drunk. Tasted weird though. Must be a weird composition of his tobacco.’

‘Theon rolls his cigarettes, doesn’t he Robb?’ Roslin asked.

Edmure’s eyes flew to her, then to Robb, quickly catching on to what Roslin was asking.

‘Yeah, he does.’

Edmure rolled his eyes.

‘You nitwit with the brain of a Targaryen incest baby. Theon’s a stoner. Your cigarette was a blunt probably’, Edmure sighed.

‘Oh. Well’, Robb just said as he slumped against the wall of his bedroom, waiting for Edmure to open it with the key.

So he had remembered that Edmure had the key, Roslin mused. His memory did seem to work.

‘You remember why we got you home?’ Roslin asked.

‘Slipped on the floor? Bloody thing’s always wet. Fucking ice rink.’

No amnesia surrounding the event.

‘You’re a lot better on the ice rink’, Roslin teased.

‘Yeah well, I’m out of practice’, Robb huffed.

Edmure opened the door and Robb went straight for his bed, with the last ounce of strength and focus.

‘I’m uhm, going to look for an ice pack in the kitchen. Can’t hurt’, Roslin announced.

Edmure nodded.

‘I’ll get the log ready for bed’, Edmure said.

By the time she came back up with a glass of water and an ice pack Robb was undressed and under the covers. Edmure standing beside his bed, taking a picture.

‘That’s cruel’, Roslin chastised.

‘Oh well, some incriminating pictures for birthdays or eventual weddings never hurt’, Edmure grinned.

‘You’re such a boy.’

She put the ice pack on Robb’s head and placed the glass of water on his nightstand. Retrieving her wallet from her purse, she took out a dafalgan and put it next to the glass of water. He’d need it tomorrow morning.

‘Are you an actual patron saint of drunks?’ Edmure asked in disbelief.

‘Where were you all the time I was plastered?’

‘Maybe you were too plastered to find me’, she teased.

Her eyes darted back to Robb.

‘Let’s leave him. He’ll be fine. Or so I hope.’

‘He’ll be fine, a bit worse for wear, but fine.’

‘Let’s hope he learns from it’, Roslin smiled as she slipped out of the bedroom.

They left the student apartments.

‘You know, it’s quite contradictory that you are the one to get your friends drinking and then are the one taking care of them. You one of those Munchausen people?’

‘I’m the one to suggest drinks. But I never suggest it to people who are already drunk, and I’m also the first one to encourage people to drink water. It’s not because I like to do shots that I love killing off people’s brain cells.’

Edmure nodded.

‘Girls always were better friends than men’, Edmure chuckled.

Roslin took a deep breath of the night air, silence descending upon them.

It was pretty chilly, and Roslin was only in a t-shirt.

It was that magical hour after the city went to sleep and before the earliest birds had to get up for work.

‘Perhaps we should have asked that cab to stay’, Edmure muttered. ‘Now we’re stranded.’

‘I’ll call Arianne whether she’s still at the club.’

‘I’ll call Marq.’

Both tapped their screens and called their friends, both hearing that the club had played its final song and closed the doors.

‘So… Club’s closed so… This is goodbye?’

Roslin nodded with regret. It felt so stupid to end the night like this. Awkwardly, away from the party after having spent the past hour or two looking after Robb.

 _Robb Stark you absolute cockblocker,_ Roslin cursed.

Weren’t you going to ask me for dinner?’ Roslin asked, hating how pathetic her voice sounded.

‘Oh right, give me your number, then I’ll text you. I’m sorry, I totally forgot I didn’t have your number yet.’

She gave her number and a second later a text with a winking emoji arrived into her inbox.

Edmure stretched, reaching his arms above his head before he put them into his back pockets.

He blanched.

‘What?’ Roslin asked.

‘My keys’, Edmure answered, franctically patting his pockets.

‘Fuck. Seven bloody fucking buggering hells!’ Edmure cursed.

‘They’re in my _coat_. They’re _never_ in my coat’, he moaned. ‘Why did I put them in my coat?’ he asked to the gods as he let his head fall back, eyes aimed at the heaven.

‘And your coat is still in the bar?’

‘Yeah’, Edmure sighed miserably.

‘Maybe if I call Marq I could crash at his?’ he thought out loud.

He turned back around to Robb’s dorm across the street. He’d left the key with Robb, and he would without a doubt be in a very deep sleep now.

‘He’s with Arianne and Sylva. I don’t think we’ll be able to interrupt them. And then they’ll go straight to sleep’, Roslin said softly.

‘Oh fuck.’

‘You could sleep at mine, for the night? And then call the club tomorrow morning?’ Roslin offered.

It was very bold. Exceedingly so.

A most decidedly un-Roslin move.

But it was even more unlike her to leave a poor hot uncle of Robb’s out in the streets until morning.

Edmure blinked.

‘You’d allow that?’

‘Well I kind of offered.’

‘I- I mean if that’s fine for you. Really, you are under no obligation. I can keep calling people until someone picks up.’

‘You choose’, Roslin said politely.

‘I don’t live that far away, a ten to fifteen minutes’ walk.’

Edmure nodded, again nervously raking his hand through his dishevelled hair before crossing his arms.

‘I mean, I- thank you. If it’s alright, that would be very very kind.’

‘I am kind’, Roslin said.

‘I’ve noticed’, Edmure smiled softly.

‘Alright, come on then’, she grinned nodding her head in the direction they were going to.

The city was lovely at night.

She really treasured the walks home from the club in the dead of night. There was barely a soul out, only some cabs, stray cats and fellow wanderers. Sometimes she walked with her head turned towards the sky the whole time, trying to spot some stars and constellations.

But right now her eyes kept drifting to the tall man walking beside her, his velvet cape ominously fluttering behind him.

‘It’s not my usual habit these days, you know?’ Edmure asked, breaking the silence.

Roslin turned towards him, raising her eyebrows.

‘Usually I insist on dinner first.’

A cool autumn wind brushed past them, raising the hairs on Roslin’s arms.

She shivered and stroked her arms with her hands to keep the chill off.

Edmure noticed and untied his cape, draping it across her.

‘I also prefer to spend a whole night together first, with some hours of talking’, Roslin smiled. ‘Just to check the man doesn’t have bad intentions. But then I know that if you misbehave I can tell Robb and Mrs. Stark.’

‘Ah, right. I keep forgetting you know my sister. She would kill me if you’d ask her. Her opinion of me isn’t too good, I fear.’

Roslin laughed.

‘I’m sure she likes you just fine.’

‘Sometimes I believe her sister affection died and was replaced with motherly worry the day our mother died. She’s always been better at scolding me than expressing affection.’

Roslin nodded slowly.

‘I live with two of my brothers in a flat. Olyvar, who studies revalidation sciences and Willamen who studies law. Don’t worry, we each have our own rooms. But my two other full-blood brothers I’m not very close to either. Perwyn is nice and Benfrey has good moments but there’s a decade between us. So we’re not very close.’

‘Just how many children does your father have?’

‘Twenty-nine. And that’s with his wives. We’re pretty sure he fathered some with his mistresses as well. Walder Frey doesn’t believe in condoms’, Roslin sighed.

‘Must be rough during family dinners’, Edmure joked.

‘We rarely see brothers or sisters aside from those born of the same mother, but at Christmas he rents an entire restaurant to seat us and his grandchildren’, Roslin laughed.

‘And here I felt bad for being the third child.’

‘Try being number twenty-four.’

‘That’s rough buddy’, Edmure said.

‘I understood that reference’, Roslin laughed.

They walked in silence for a while.

With the cape wrapped around her, the cold wasn’t too bad.

Instead she found herself having the impulsive urge to skip and turn.

She could have kept on dancing for hours still.

They were getting close to her flat now.

‘You know, in the Middle Ages of Westeros, grooms put their family cloaks around their wives as part of the wedding ritual. It was the most important part, actually.’

‘As a linguist studying medieval texts, I am aware.’

Roslin blushed.

Silly her, of course he knew.

‘Would you say a wedding is a proper substitute for a dinner, Lord Edmure?’

‘Not at all, fair Lady Roslin. You know, in the Middle Ages it was custom to break the bread. That way people were protected by the ancient guest right, meaning their host couldn’t harm them. Technically we could still start murdering each other.’

‘How gruesome’, Roslin laughed.

‘But as you know, the Black Dinner did happen even after the guests had received the bread and salt.’

It was a vague page in history, recounting the story of how the regent of James the second had murdered guests they suspected of revolting against the young king. Of course, it had been proven false by many sources, but it was a good story nonetheless.

‘We’ll just have to trust each other then.’

‘Indeed.’

They had finally arrived at her flat, and Roslin quickly led the way through the reception into the elevator. The apartment was luckily just as clean as she’d left it. The boys hadn’t left any additional garbage laying around.

Of course, some stacks of paper and books still lay around, but all by all, it was fine.

‘Do you want a glass of water or something?’ Roslin asked.

‘Water would be nice, thank you.’

The enigmatic tower of confidence had crumpled in the unfamiliar space. But Roslin was determined not to make it more awkward than it had to be.

She went to the kitchen and poured the both of them a glass of water.

‘Anything else? We still have some leftover pasta sauce and crisps and stuff?’

‘I’m fine, thank you’, he said as he accepted the glass.

He was checking out the room.

Roslin waited as his eyes took in the many windows, the green couch, the wooden furniture, the soft rugs and blankets and the very full bookcase.

He met her gaze, awkwardly looking at the floor.

‘Sorry. Pretty place. Did you do the decorating?’

‘What do you think?’

‘Of course, if men decorated it, it would look a lot more utilitarian. Not like a home.’

‘Is that how you’d describe your place, then?’ she smiled as she put her glass down.

‘I’m afraid so.’

‘I’ll show you the bed- and bathroom. Come.’

‘I’m not to sleep on the couch?’

‘Oh…’

She hadn’t even considered the possibility. Shit.

Did he think her wanton now? Should she ask him to?

‘You can choose, of course. I just thought you wouldn’t like waking up to my brothers finding you. And I also think my brothers would be shocked to find a sleeping man on their couch.’

‘Fair. But really, it’s not a problem. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.’

‘It’s fine. And as I said, if you do anything I don’t like, I can always tell your sister.’

She showed him the bathroom first, which wasn’t as tidy as it could be, but could be worse. Wet towels still hung over the shower and floor, and the sink was dirty with toothpaste and shower gel.

 _Those boys, when will they learn?_ Roslin wondered.

‘And this is the bedroom.’

None of the bedrooms were big, and Roslin’s was completely filled with inches to spare to move around the bed, big closet and the nightstands. She always worked in the living room.

However it was perfectly tidy, with a perfectly made up bed, clean fluffy rug, empty nightstands and only her nightgown laying on a chair in the corner. She was glad she’d burned a lavender candle just hours before, now it smelled nice as well.

‘Alright.’

‘I suggest I go first, since I take the longest to get ready probably.’

Edmure nodded, following her outside of the room again.

‘Could I take another glass of water?’

‘Sure, please, don’t ask for water. Feel free to take it’, she smiled before entering the bathroom.

She inhaled deeply.

Edmure Tully was in her flat.

And soon in her bed.

The lines were blurry, the circumstances could have been better, but she wasn’t complaining.

She was at her strongest at home.

She wasn’t as awkward in her home.

By now she’d gathered enough information to know he was looking for a girlfriend and desired warmth and stability, someone more nurturing. Someone who could laugh and connect with him. She could do that.

She already was all of those things, except his girlfriend.

She quickly undressed, looking at her reflection in the mirror.

She’d looked good in the black outfit and heavy black eyeliner. Would he still think she was attractive if he saw her baby face?

She could hardly keep her make-up on, could she?

She removed it all with a sigh, before applying a toner and her usual essence. She did leave her brows coloured in and applied a coat of darker lip balm. It would have to do. She quickly brushed her hair and teeth, washed and shaved. A girl could be prepared, right?

She looked at her phone again. Ten minutes had passed. That was perfectly acceptable, neither a long nor a short time for a girl to take to get ready.

She laid out a new toothbrush, fresh washcloth and towel for him before exiting the bathroom in her nightgown.

Edmure was seated on the sofa, a book in hand.

She could get used to that sight.

‘I’m ready.’

He looked up.

Crap. His expression froze.

He wasn’t even blinking.

She wrapped her arms around herself.

She lucked out in the Frey lottery, but compared to Arianne’s sultry looks and the buxom elegant girl in the bathroom, she did look quite plain, and small.

‘Edmure?’ she peeped.

‘Right, right. Sorry. Bathroom. Yes’, he muttered, rising.

The book was entirely forgotten and clattered to the ground, luckily the carpet muffled the sound a little.

The tall man cringed, before letting out a dry laugh.

‘Do you need to charge your phone?’ Roslin asked softly, deciding to not let her silly feelings get in the way of her being the absolute best wifey-material she could be.

‘Uhm, yeah, I have some twenty percent battery left.’

‘What kind of charger?’

‘One of those completely oval ones’, he answered.

Roslin slipped past him, pulling a spare charger from her desk against the wall.

‘Like this one?’

‘Yes, that would be perfect. Thank you. I’d resigned myself to having my phone die and knocking on the nightclub’s door.’

He offered her his phone and she plugged it in.

‘Luckily, there’ll be no need for that.’

‘Luckily, yes’, he repeated.

He looked as if he might kiss her, but in the end he just nodded and walked away.

‘This door, right?’ he asked as he halted.

Roslin nodded, waiting until he’d gone in before she filled up her glass with water and went to the bathroom.

It would be a challenging night.

She plugged in her phone and crawled under the blankets.

_What a night._

Edmure returned shortly after, freshly washed. Even his hair was wet.

Still stunning. Roslin would’ve looked like a drowned cat.

His body was as pale as the moon, his hair stark against the unblemished canvas.

_His shoulders are so wide. Gods, it should be illegal to look like that. Am I expected to sleep with such a man beside me? It’s like asking someone to look away from a gorgeous piece of art._

He gingerly slid under the covers on the other side, far away from her.

It felt like an insult, but she knew he was trying to be polite.

What did you say to someone you’d kissed intensely hours earlier, but was now awkwardly bedded beside you?

He stirred, the bed creaking as he turned onto his side.

Thank heaven, now she didn’t have to think of something.

She turned to her side as well.

‘Roslin, I really want to thank you for tonight. You really saved Robb and I.’

‘I’m glad I could help’, she answered softly.

 _Please kiss me_ , she begged.

‘I promise I won’t be a bother tomorrow.’

‘It’s fine. I don’t have class tomorrow morning anyways’, she answered.

Edmure nodded.

He was adorable awkward, although she’d much rather be close to him.

‘I’ll really have to splurge on dinner, don’t I?’ Edmure laughed.

‘I would not be opposed’, she smiled, her heart jumping at the sound of his laugh.

‘She says with a smile that would charm all the money right out of my pocket.’

‘Is that a Jane Eyre reference?’ Roslin asked.

‘Perhaps it is. You’re a fan?’

‘I know it’s a bit wrong, but I always digged Mr. Rochester.’

‘Ha! Then there’s hope for a reformed hedonist like me’, Edmure smiled.

‘Of course, a great deal of it, sir’, Roslin smiled.

Edmure shifted again, closer towards her. She moved closer as well.

‘Lovely’, he breathed, bending down towards her.

She sighed into the kiss, falling onto her back.

His lips were warm and soft, his kiss holding none of the fire of earlier during the night.

She wrapped her arms around his cold skin.

‘You’re a furnace’, he laughed against her lips.

‘Mhm, perhaps I am a bit hot for you.’

 _Oh god, Roslin. Really?_ She cringed at her cheesiness.

Edmure only laughed.

‘Good, good. Excellent.’

He kissed her again.

And again, until her heartbeat was racing.

But his hands never went below the covers.

She was as relieved as she was disappointed.

He obviously didn’t dislike her.

And they were going to go on a date.

And he wasn’t just trying to get a quick fuck out of her.

By the time she woke, she was sure she’d made it all up in some alcohol induced dream, despite that she knew alcohol consumption usually resulted in dreamless sleep.

She stretched, surprised when her feet hit a hairy leg.

No way. It hadn’t been a dream.

She carefully turned around.

Now she understood why people described red hair as a “shock of red” sometimes, because the auburn and red hair on his chest gleamed blood red in the morning sunlight.

His hair was a glowing flame, and his face sculpted perfection.

High cheekbones above his beard, strong sculpted brows, thick lashes.

The only thing that wasn’t perfect about him was the smell of old alcohol on his breath. Oh, he’d hate that if she pointed it out.

Yet it didn’t detract from his hotness.

That man would create the loveliest babies.

_Gods Roslin, stop it!_

She allowed herself to drink him in, this resting deity kissed by Morpheus.

Then she pulled herself out of it and rose without a sound, slipping into her very sexy panda slippers before going out of the bedroom.

She didn’t know the time, but her two brothers had already gone to class.

Good, no busybodies.

She quickly brushed her teeth and applied some deodorant before heading to the kitchen.

The closing of a door sometime later alerted her that Edmure too had arisen.

‘Good, you’re up. Had a nice sleep?’

‘Yeah, terrific. Got a bruise on my knee though. Kid owes me one’, he laughed.

Roslin turned the stove off. She still had some batter left, but she didn’t care.

‘Great, breakfast is ready’, she announced as she brushed into the living room.

He was still only in his boxers.

Not that she was complaining.

She was doing the exact opposite actually, openly staring.

‘Pancakes?’ Edmure asked, startling Roslin out of her reverie.

‘Yeah. Oh. Don’t tell me you’re lactose intolerant or vegan’, she muttered.

Edmure laughed, throwing his head back as he slipped onto one of the chairs.

‘Vegan, good one. Like I’d have the discipline.’

Roslin put the plate down with a smile.

Any awkwardness that had existed the previous night was now well and truly gone.

‘Your brothers?’ he asked as he picked up a pancake.

‘Out, class’, she explained.

Edmure nodded.

‘So… since I am a smart man, or at least I like to think of myself as one, I suggest we also plan a second date.’

‘Really?’ Roslin smiled, taking a sip from her tea.

‘Really. I mean’, he waved at the table and her.

‘Can’t get much better.’

Roslin laughed heartily.

‘Well, we aim to please.’

‘Indeed we do’, Edmure said, blue eyes gleaming like a clear river on a summer’s day.

Her stomach flipped, a swarm of butterflies beating furiously at her insides.

‘Technically this totally counts as eating and talking together’, Edmure pointed out.

She blinked, remembering their conversation the previous night.

‘Oh, totally.’

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed.  
> Please leave a kudo or comment if you enjoyed it.


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